Butterfly Diaries A teen on a quest to be a better writer

Category Archives: Poetry

Sagittarius

I’ve started reading horoscopes
Now I’ve never believed in the zodiac
Or really even humoured it
But I never believed I’d find someone
Who made me feel comfort by acknowledging my anxieties or who
Distracts me from movies by simply being in my peripheral vision.
This sounds like a cheesy line
But I was thinking maybe if the stars said
We could be good together
I’d have a slight chance.
Astrology.com said
“Together the two can fly without fear of falling”
I’m definitely scared of falling.
See I’ve already fallen down this rabbit hole
A painful amount of times
I keep thinking there’s a light at the end
But this time I’m scared to jump off the ledge
Which I’ve been hiding on for months
You smile and I see it…I see the light
That terrifies me more.
I don’t know what to trust.
I’ve started reading horoscopes
A science for which I’ve never developed trust
But you my dear
Just
Might
Change
Things.

The “F-word”

Fuck!

Does that word offend you?

Fag!

How about that one?

“Fine”

We all know how much of a lie that word can be.

However the most abrasive “f-word” according to the media is not any of those

Swears, insults, and lies are just fine as long as we don’t mention

The 1 in 6 women whose bodies are used without their permission

The 4 women who were killed by a spouse today, yesterday, and the day before

The 33 cents per dollar cut from every woman’s pay because of her genitals

The systematic oppression that makes life unnecessarily harder for half of America’s population

We get to see Christian Grey “take” Anastasia and gossip about how sexy it is

But never end up speaking of the drunk girl whose uncertainty was ignored

and everyone blamed her for being broken the next day

We watch game shows showing women who perfectly depict the beauty standard

Competing to be the sexiest dead girl in the photoshoot

This is what we call entertainment.

These are our role models.

Who cares if you’re dead as long as boys 18-24 will pay to look at you?

We can talk about the best brand of fake lashes and cellulite cream

But not about the fact corporations create insecurities and new products simultaneously

American media encourages us to fear, hate, and misinterpret this word

The “f-word”

Well I’m sorry but I don’t want to talk about the next miracle diet, newest shoe designer or celebrity break up

I want to talk about feminism

Yeah, I said it!

Let’s hear her side of the story

Let’s take the media out of it

Let’s eliminate the male gaze

And listen to the people who may

Dress, talk, think or love differently than us.

We are women.

We are not the unfortunate counterpart to men.

I want to indulge in media of substance

I want children to see strong role models of all genders

I want “you can be anything you want when you grow up” to include

Being alive

Being heard

Being

A woman.

Toxic- 8/10/14

I can’t help but write about the metaphor you presented me
Of your fiancé hurting herself with the engagement ring you gave her
When a relationship is as poisonous as yours,
It should come with a warning label
It didn’t and I got involved
I guess I’m not so good at reading signs anyway
You’ve cut a much too big heart shaped hole
Through my chest
And dug around before finding what was left
I just hope that you don’t lose the chain that you keep it on
It’s funny how we will go through so much pain for a chance at love
The parallels to religion blow my mind
An omniscient all powerful thing we have so much faith in
We let it guide us
I let you guide me through the garbage disposal
And now I’ll sit and rot with the rest of the trash
Thinking how lucky I was to have such an obvious reason to believe
And glancing up through the light to see you happy
I’ll tell myself it was worth it

Dorm Girl

Written some time last semester. Just found it

 

I don’t want to write another sad poem

I don’t want to write another self harm suicide rape trauma poem

I don’t want to write another poem that I cry through

When I try not to write  sad, I write sex

But what am I supposed to do when sex and sadness intertwine?

Molested as a child and it never stopped

Harassment here, blurred lines there, just another guy I’m meant to hate

I told everyone I loved it.

I told myself I loved it.

Then I found myself in a relationship with an asexual guy

At down I find myself wondering if it is because I needed a break

or because I wanted to be the one pushing for once

Fuck, now I’m crying again

They beg you to throw away your blades and they give you a typewriter

What else can I write?

Should I tell you about the girl?

The girl I catch myself thinking about too often?

The girl who plays guitar and piano

like it’s the only way her thoughts can escape?

It’s not that I want to have sex with her

I just want to see the inside of her

I want to know if it’s barmen and carved into

or blurry and dark.

I want to know why she does so many drugs.

Is it to numb or to feel?

I catch myself looking at her hands

Can you be attracted simply to the way hands move on certain people?

I can tell so much just looking at them

The callouses and burns don’t give it away

It’s the way she grabs beer and weed like her mother’s hand

but pencil and paper like something foreign or banned

It’s the fact that she is 20 something and I was her second kiss.

She kissed me out of anger.

She kissed me out of fear.

She kissed me because she didn’t know what else to do with herself

I think that’s why I’m so mesmerized.

She has so much emotion but lets herself believe she doesn’t

I wonder if she remembers our drunk talk

or if she pretends not to, in the morning/

I wonder if she thinks about me

or if I was just another vice to grab.

Maybe I have made it all up

Maybe she is just a girl

and I am making her an example of my problems

Maybe the world it what it seems on the surface

Maybe the love of my life is asexual by chance

Maybe the list of guys who have pushed me gets longer by chance

Maybe every poem I try to write is sad by chance

or maybe this is all something bigger

Maybe the girl is in my head because she fell into my story

and doesn’t belong.

Maybe I’m onto something here

or maybe I need to go to bed.

 

Guts – 7/13/14

The stars drop silently

While our laughter screams through stale air

My neighbors have no right to complain

Why would people complain anyway

I deserve to be happy

I don’t understand

How we had seperate terrible evenings

But nights together so perfect

We refused to let them end.

I told you how you hurt me

I explained that my heart used to be whole

and you shattered it into a million stars.

I described the pieces as stars because

they were once beautiful

and are now burning away

leaving just darkness.

I shared my need to cut off my skin

hoping it would allow my heart to evaporate

and I wouldn’t be stuck

with a melted puddle in my ribcage.

We talked about pain for hours

and I had never felt so safe.

What is it about your hair

in a side pony

and a bang on the right

twisted with the arm of your glasses

that makes me forget the world?

Intoxicating my blood stream

while you intoxicate my mind

is just a recipe for disaster.

I forgot how to filter and for once

let shields down I didn’t know were there.

I knew you’d be scared of my insides

There’s a reason guts are only spilled

in horror movies.

I never meant to hurt you

Please understand

that without you in my life

I wouldn’t have guts to spill

Just tears watering my face

hoping they’d grow into something beautiful

so you’d love me again.

Numbers 2/17/14

In math we learned
that the space between
any two numbers
is infinite.
The biggest number
less than two
is undefined.
You can always add
another number
after the decimal.
That’s what loving
you is like.
Every smile
is another number
after the decimal.
I think I can’t
love you any more
but then
my heart
finds another number
greater than me
and less than
you.